November

No sun - no moon!
No morn - no noon -
No dawn - no dusk - no proper time of day.
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member -
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds! -
November! 

However, October was different. Not a lot of travelling, but much browsing and sluicing as Mr Wooster put it. We started by touring the Whitechapel Bell Foundry, which seems to be the oldest trading company in the world. Fascinating - they make the bells for most people or organisations who want one, and service the machinery that is used to ring them, but the whole exercise operates from premises that is little larger than a good sized detached house in suburbia. Not easy to book a tour, but well worth the effort.

Actually we did go to Brighton for a couple of days - we had booked a room for the night in June when we went to a Cliff Richard concert in Hove Cricket Ground, but they denied the booking on the day, and when we proved them wrong, having found another place to stay, they gave us a freebie weekend. Actually I would have been more comfortable at home, but it would have been churlish to refuse, and we did get to have an Indian with a very good friend who lives at Lewes, and who will be looking forward to November 5!

Went to see The Ladykillers  - a really good and well-produced play, based on the old film, and very funny. And the following week, to From Here to Eternity. I did wonder how they would make a musical from a story such as that, but it worked very well. On at the Shaftesbury Theatre.

Last week we had The Storm. Bidborough Court stands on the very top of Bidborough Ridge with an uninterrupted view for 30-odd miles to the south-west, from where our weather comes, and I was fearful that we would lose the roof again, but despite threats of 80-odd mph gales, we emerged unscathed. The final check on the tile swill be made as I type, but I am sure that there is nothing much amiss.

To lunch with the Lord Mayor of London a couple of days later. It was a Vintry and Dowgate ward annual lunch. The LM was a very good speaker, modelling himself on Nicholas Parsons, I think, and it worked very well.

From the sublime to the ridiculous - the following day we went to a local Turkish restaurant for Rotary dinner out the following day. I do like Turkish food, and their wine has improved enormously. When we first started going on holiday to turkey about 40 years ago Turkish wine had a well-deserved reputation for tasting of burnt rubber, but they seem to have solved that, more or less. 

Also during the month Sonia had her atrial fibrillation treated with the electric shock treatment that Tony Blair had some years previously. It has worked very well, and she is now climbing hills and playing tennis with renewed vigour.

Two interesting things arrived in the e-mails recently:

CURTAIN RODS ---

On the first day, he sadly packed his belongings into boxes, crates and suitcases.

On the second day, he had the movers come and collect his things.

On the third day, he sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining room table, by candlelight; he put on some soft background music, and feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar, and a bottle of spring water.

When he'd finished, he went into each and every room and deposited a few half eaten shrimps dipped in caviar into the hollow centre of the curtain rods.

He then cleaned up the kitchen and left.

On the fourth day, the wife came back with her new boyfriend, and at first all was bliss.

Then, slowly, the house began to smell. They tried everything; cleaning, mopping, and airing out the place. Vents were checked for dead rodents, and carpets were steam cleaned. Air fresheners were hung everywhere. Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which time the two had to move out for a few days, and in the end they even paid to replace the expensive wool carpeting.

Nothing worked!

People stopped coming over to visit. Repairmen refused to work in the house. The maid quit.

Finally, they couldn't take the stench any longer, and decided they had to move, but a month later - even though they'd cut their price in half – they couldn't find a buyer for such a stinky house. Word got out, and eventually even the local realtors refused to return their calls.

Finally, unable to wait any longer for a purchaser, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place.

Then the ex called the woman and asked how things were going.

She told him the saga of the rotting house. He listened politely and said that he missed his old home terribly and would be willing to reduce his divorce settlement in exchange for having the house.

Knowing he could have no idea how bad the smell really was, she agreed on a price that was only 1/10th of what the house had been worth ... but only if he would sign the papers that very day.

He agreed, and within two hours her lawyers delivered the completed paperwork.

A week later the woman and her boyfriend stood smiling as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home ......

And to spite the ex-husband, they even took the curtain rods!!

OH, I LOVE A HAPPY ENDING, DON'T YOU?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

This year the grass grew faster than normal…………

GOD: Frank, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there on the planet? What happened to the dandelions, violets, milkweeds and stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honey bees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colours by now. But, all I see are these green rectangles.

St. FRANCIS: It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers 'weeds' and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.

GOD: Grass? But, it's so boring. It's not colourful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and bees; only grubs and worms. It's sensitive to temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?

ST. FRANCIS: Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilising grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.

GOD: The spring rains and warm weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy.

ST. FRANCIS: Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it-sometimes twice a week.

GOD: They cut it? Do they then bale it like hay?

ST. FRANCIS: Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.

GOD: They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?

ST. FRANCIS: No, Sir, just the opposite. They pay to throw it away.

GOD: Now, let me get this straight. They fertilise grass so it will grow. And, when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?

ST. FRANCIS: Yes, Sir.

GOD: These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.

ST. FRANCIS: You aren't going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it, so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.

GOD: What nonsense. At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn, they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. It's a natural cycle of life.

ST. FRANCIS: You better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away.

GOD: No! What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter and to keep the soil moist and loose?

ST. FRANCIS: After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something which they call mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.

GOD: And where do they get this mulch?

ST. FRANCIS: They cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch………………

That's about it for this month. Have a good one.